


Please Say You'll Meet Me (Will You Meet Me Halfway?)

by cellostiel



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Aziraphale Is Trying His Best, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellostiel/pseuds/cellostiel
Summary: Aziraphale is already outside his comfort zone just living with Crowley, just by putting up with his infringements on Aziraphale's personal space. He shouldn't push the angel any further; he's lucky to have what he has now."Crowley?" Crowley realizes belatedly that Aziraphale has been trying to get his attention for quite some time."Sorry." Crowley says. "Mind wandered for a bit. You were saying?""Yes, well," Aziraphale stops them in front of the door to the flat, avoiding Crowley's gaze and gripping his hands together the way he does when he doesn't know what to do with his hands. "I, um, I wanted to say - I had a good time tonight."~Crowley and Aziraphale have been living together for a while, and Crowley has convinced himself that it's useless to ask for more - in this, Aziraphale goes at his pace, and his pace alone. He simply has to wait until Aziraphale is ready for more. Turns out that may be sooner than he thought.





	Please Say You'll Meet Me (Will You Meet Me Halfway?)

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this with an entirely different fic in mind but here we are and I think it's a pretty nice place to be. Better, even. 
> 
> Clearest Blue is, as always, a _delight_ to write these kinds of kisses to. Definitely give it a listen if you get the chance! 
> 
> Please enjoy! <3

The bookshop is back, but Aziraphale takes Crowley up on his offer anyway. Crowley is glad for it - it's not until Aziraphale is a near-constant presence that Crowley realizes just how  _ lonely _ he's been the past 6,000 years. Even when Aziraphale isn't at their flat, evidence of his presence is everywhere, from the carefully bookmarked Oscar Wilde on the coffee table, to the half-finished mug of cocoa on the desk sitting beside an equally half-finished crossword, to the extensive classical music collection now weighing down the shelf next to Crowley's CD and record players. As more and more of Aziraphale's things get moved into Crowley's flat, the flat itself seems to get brighter - less sharp around the edges. Crowley finds he doesn't really mind. 

They take regular walks down to the local cafés, diners, and anywhere else Aziraphale wants to go, really. Sometimes they'll pop into a bookshop other than Aziraphale's, and Crowley spends the entire time following behind the angel and watching him make faces at the organizational method the shop uses, smiling as Aziraphale frets over the state of the less-cared-for books. 

Crowley doesn't notice it at first, but he finds himself touching Aziraphale more often: an arm around his shoulder as he leans in to see the book Aziraphale is showing him; a hand on Aziraphale's forearm to get his attention when he's lost in a book or crossword; legs draped over Aziraphale's lap while they're on the couch, Crowley watching one of his shows while Aziraphale reads, his hand idly rubbing Crowley's leg. It must be the new constant proximity to each other, or maybe the knowledge that they don't have to hide their 'fraternizing' anymore. Crowley usually can't stand others touching him, but with Aziraphale, he can't quite seem to get enough. 

They both use the bed, though between Aziraphale staying up all night reading and Crowley having to get up to get business things done during the day, they're rarely in it at the same time. It's nice when they are, though, and Crowley is only mildly surprised to find himself slotting into the role of little spoon. It's especially nice when Aziraphale lets his wings out to wrap around them both. Occasionally Crowley will collect Aziraphale from his desk at unsatanly hours of the night, sometimes because he knows Aziraphale wants to actually open his shop the next morning, and sometimes because Crowley never realized how cold his bed was without Aziraphale in it. 

He has more of Aziraphale than he has ever had before. That should make him content, right? Happy, even? Well, he  _ is  _ happy, but if anything, having so much more of Aziraphale has made it clearer than ever that there's a chasm between what he has of Aziraphale and what he wants. And oh, he  _ wants. _ He wants to lean over in their bed and kiss Aziraphale good morning, he wants their hands to twine while Crowley sips at his wine and Aziraphale goes on about something, he wants Aziraphale to look at him the way he does in Crowley's dreams - with open, unbridled affection and love - and he wants Aziraphale to  _ say it _ , say that he  _ loves _ Crowley, and he wants and wants and wants and  _ wants  _ and-

_ 'You go too fast for me, Crowley.' _

Aziraphale is already outside his comfort zone just living with Crowley, just by putting up with his infringements on Aziraphale's personal space. Aziraphale is meeting Crowley as close to halfway as he can. If that's not enough, it's on Crowley, and Crowley alone. He shouldn't push the angel any further; he's lucky to have what he has now.

"Crowley?" Crowley realizes belatedly that Aziraphale has been trying to get his attention for quite some time. 

"Sorry." Crowley says. "Mind wandered for a bit. You were saying?"

"Yes, well," Aziraphale stops them in front of the door to the flat, avoiding Crowley's gaze and gripping his hands together the way he does when he doesn't know what to do with his hands. "I, um, I wanted to say - I had a good time tonight."

Crowley raises a curious brow. They only went to the Ritz, and they've been doing it just about monthly since That Day. "Good to hear? Be a bit of a surprise if you weren't enjoying yourself this whole time."

"Right, yes." Aziraphale says, looking embarrassed. "I suppose what I wanted to say was: thank you for the night tonight. It was lovely."

Crowley is confused. "Well, uh, you're welcome. The Ritz never disappoints, though, does it?"

"No, it doesn't." Aziraphale agrees. "We should- we should do this again. Sometime."

Aziraphale is being strange, and Crowley doesn't know why. "Of course we will. Same time next month, probably."

"Ah. Of course." Aziraphale twists his hands together, seems to give himself an internal peptalk, then, still not quite looking Crowley in the eye, says, "Would you like to come in?"

"Well, I'd like to kick my shoes off and sit on the couch, so yes. Why are you being so weird?" 

"I'm not being weird." 

"You are. What's all this about, Angel?"

Aziraphale huffs, frustrated. "This isn't going like it does in the pictures."

"Pictures?" Crowley echoes. "What pictures?"

"The pictures you pretend to only watch because there's nothing else on. This always works for them. Am I doing it wrong?" His face is pinched in confusion and anxiety, wrinkling his brow.

"Doing what wrong?" Crowley asks, completely lost. "What were you trying to do?"

"Well," Aziraphale fidgets, smoothing non-existent wrinkles out of his vest, and says, "When humans have finished a date, they sometimes stop in front of the door to one of their homes. One will say 'I had a good time tonight,' 'we should do this again,' or perhaps 'would you like to come in,' and usually this statement will lead to…" He makes a rotating motion with his hand. "You know."

Crowley stares. "You're trying to get me to kiss you?"

Color high on his cheeks and eyes somewhere near Crowley's shoulder, Aziraphale says, "Yes. That was the preferred outcome."

"Oh." It's not so much a statement as it is just the sound of all the air leaving Crowley's lungs at once. Aziraphale peeks at him, then flicks his eyes away again.

"I, I understand if you don't want to, or if you'd like to - what is it called? - take a 'rain check,' but I… if you were so inclined, I would… like to kiss you, Crowley."

"Yeah?" Crowley checks, the word just barely a sound. Aziraphale nods. "Then what?" The angel finally meets his gaze, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean then-" the words start tumbling from Crowley's mouth, and he can't stop them; "after that- what happens? With us. Because I don't- I don't do casual, Angel. I  _ can't. _ Especially not with you." 

Understanding dawns on Aziraphale's face, then concern washes over it. "Oh, Crowley. Have I ever given you that impression?" He's asking genuinely, so Crowley searches for a genuine answer back.

"No." he finally admits. "You haven't." 

Aziraphale takes a half-step forward, within reach now but still with a comfortable space between them, and softly says, "My intentions towards you are about as far from casual as they can be, Crowley. I want to be with you. Hopefully that includes more physical intimacy such as kissing and holding hands and… the rest, but- I'll honestly take whatever you're willing to give me."

"Everything." Crowley finds himself saying. "You have everything. Always have." Aziraphale searches Crowley's face, a cautious kind of hope on his face. Shakily, Crowley takes off his glasses, and he lets Aziraphale see all the love and affection he's been holding back for thousands of years. Aziraphale's eyes are shining with what might be tears, and Crowley steps forward, saying, "Angel, I  _ lov- _ " 

He doesn't get to finish, because Aziraphale takes the last step forward and grabs him by the lapels, meeting him more than halfway in a kiss. The last of Crowley's confession comes out in a small but profoundly relieved sound against Aziraphale's mouth, and he wraps his arms around Aziraphale's middle, pulling the angel flush against himself. Aziraphale worms a hand up to tangle in Crowley's hair, and Crowley sinks against him like he was made to be there, was made to fit against Aziraphale like the final piece of a puzzle that didn't  _ need _ to be completed, but is endlessly grateful for it just the same. 

At length, Aziraphale pulls back just enough to murmur, "You have everything as well, my dear." 

"I love you," Crowley breathes against Aziraphale's mouth. Aziraphale kisses him solidly, then presses their foreheads together and replies,

"And I love  _ you _ , Crowley. Most ardently."

Crowley huffs a laugh, the next kiss more of a mashing-together of smiles as he accuses, "You stole that from a movie."

"Maybe." Aziraphale says, a glint of mischief in his eye. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Suppose I'll just have to keep kissing you."

"Mm, what a shame." He pulls Crowley down for a deep, searing kiss that leaves the demon a little light-headed. Aziraphale looks up at him with a look that could tempt even the purest of saints, and says, "Would you like to come in?" Crowley surges forward to kiss him, hands moving to lift Aziraphale up and carry him through the Miraculously open door, which shuts just as Miraculously behind them. Aziraphale's laughter echoes through the halls.

~

Crowley wakes Aziraphale with a cup of fresh tea and a gentle kiss on the lips. He suspects it's more the smell of the tea that rouses his angel, but it's definitely the kiss that earns him a sleepy, contented smile. 

"You wanted to open the shop today." Crowley reminds him. Aziraphale makes a soft hum, shifting to sit up and accept the tea from him.

"Did I?" he muses. "I don't seem to recall." 

Crowley knows what he's doing, but he likes playing along. "You told me last night: 'Crowley, wake me early tomorrow; I'd like to open the shop before noon.'" 

"I did, didn't I…" Aziraphale takes a long sip of his tea, then casually looks out the window, where just a few moments ago there was the beginnings of a perfectly sunny day. "Oh, would you look at that. The weather's turned. Much too dreadful a day to bother opening the shop; no one would come anyway." He takes another sip, says, "Suppose I'll just have to stay in."

"Oh?" Crowley sounds. "And what will you do to pass the time?" 

Aziraphale sets his tea aside and they lean into each other for a soft kiss. "Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something." Aziraphale says. "I always do." He tilts back, and Crowley follows him down into their warm, warm bed, completely, utterly, ineffably  _ happy. _

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: almost forgot to mention!! I have a twitter @cellostielwrite if you wanna follow for more fic or Good Omens rambling!


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